


Answers

by 17daysgreys



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:31:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17daysgreys/pseuds/17daysgreys
Summary: Jon is sent to Dragonstone to retrieve Dragonglass, but he can't help but be plagued by the questions he still has about his remaining missing siblings.





	Answers

Jon 

Jon never imagined he’d be in this position, sitting in the Great Hall at the head of the table being named King in the North. He’d always just been a bastard. A stain on Ned Stark’s impeccable honor that was raised within a shadow of his trueborn children. He understands, now, Catelyn’s reservations about him. Her scornful looks, her impervious attitude towards him; he was meant to be nothing and yet he had always been a threat. To what Jon could never perceive. But now, standing in Winterfell again, his childhood home that he and Sansa reclaimed, he began to understand what Catelyn feared, what Ned tried his best to stay out of, and what Robb unfortunately died of. A crown is a heavy burden to bear and Jon had never wanted any of it. 

He wanted to sit with his family to be accepted as a Stark, for true. Even now, he’d give up his crown, Winterfell, even his life if it meant his family could be together again. At least he had Sansa. The younger sister whose nose was always upturned at him, who barely uttered a hello in passing, but the young girl who treated him like dirt died just the same in King’s Landing. Now, the Lady of Winterfell rules besides him as an equal, this is her home as much as it is his. But, his mind couldn’t help but wonder about Bran and Arya. Their fates were unknown. He prayed for a raven that would hold some shred of information, even if it were the Lannister’s claiming to have Arya’s head on a spike outside the Red Keep or some wilding clan claiming that Bran passed through their parts, he needed something. 

“Jon,” Sansa’s voice calmed him as he took another deep breath. The room was filled with Northern Lords, all of whom swore fealty to Jon after he defeated Ramsay Bolton. 

He let out a grunt to clear his throat, “My Lords and Ladies, I have a letter here from Daenerys Targareyn.” The room let out an audible gasp, and Jon simply shook his head at their indignation, “She’s invited me to Dragonstone.” 

“Do not go south,” Sansa muttered under her breath so softly that Jon barely heard her. 

“Your grace, we have more pressing matters than a foreign whore claiming the Iron Throne,” Lord Glover spat.

“Our fight is in the North, your grace,” Lyanna Mormont stood up and commanded the room, “I thought we were done fighting Southern wars.” 

“We are,” Jon, growled lowly, “She has dragon glass, one of the only materials known to kill wights and white walkers alike. We need her as an ally.” 

The hall was silent as they began to understand just how important Daenerys would be if they were going to survive. 

A week later, Jon and a few of his best men were preparing to leave for Dragonstone. 

“Starks don’t fare well in the South,” Sansa greeted.

“Good thing I’m not a Stark then,” Jon joked. She looked at him coldly and immediately the smile wiped from his face, “I promise I’ll come back.” 

Sansa hadn’t been one for physical affection, not since the first day they’d been reunited, but she hugged him fierce and true, “You’re the last one left,” she tried to hold back her tears, “Arya and Bran are Gods know where if they’re even alive, it’s just you and me. Please don’t do anything stupid, Jon.”

“I won’t,” he replied, “Goodbye dear sister.” 

“Goodbye Jon.” 

 

Jon and his men pulled the small boat onto the sand in a big huff. He hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. As soon as he caught his breath he looked up to see the most daunting castle. Its dark grey stone-walls looked like a mountain, and he sighed at the stair cases that lead to its gates. However, it wasn’t the castle that caught his attention or the dragons the could be heard roaring overhead, it was a small child.

The little girl could’ve been no older than three if Jon had to guess. She had chocolate brown hair that cascaded down her back, but her eyes were the most beautiful amethyst. She held the hand of another child, a boy Jon figured. His hair was so blonde it looked white and his eyes were a stormy grey, with a ring of blue around the irises, a grey he himself recognized to fondly.   
“Who are you?” The little girl asked, “Your eyes look like mother’s.” 

The wheels in Jon’s head were turning, “And where would your mother be?” 

“Training,” the girl scoffed as if Jon asking the question was the stupidest thing in the world, “She’s a warrior.” 

Before Jon could ask anymore questions he was interrupted by a, “Lord Snow,” a man greeted, a man Jon immediately recognized. His legs were still too short for his torso and his hair had darkened a bit, but Tyrion Lannister would be obvious anywhere, “I see you’ve encountered the children.” 

“I was unaware Daenerys had children,” Jon made simple conversation as they made their way to the gate. 

 

“She doesn’t,” Tyrion sighed, “Visenya and Eddard are her niece and nephew, children of her brother’s son Aegon and his lady-wife.”   
“Eddard? Odd for a Targareyn.” 

“Their mother was a bit adamant about it, you’ll understand when you meet her.” 

Before Jon could respond he was led into a throne room where Daenerys Targareyn was sitting patiently waiting for him. But his eyes never met hers, instead they followed the young girl and her little brother as they shouted, “Mother, father,” and ran towards two figures standing in the corner. The woman came into the light as she reached down to collect the young boy. 

She was everything and nothing Jon remembered. She was a woman grown now, she had to be nineteen at the least. Her features were much sharper and she had grown into a true Northern beauty. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, just grazing her shoulders. She clearly had been training as she was still wearing her leathers and she seemed a bit out of breath. 

“Arya,” he croaked and suddenly the woman turned towards him, grey eyes meeting grey. 

The entire room was silent. No one knew, besides Aegon who Arya truly was. To them she was Cat Snow, a northern bastard Aegon met in Braavos while he was posing as a Tyroshi sell sword. Sure, people had their suspicions that she wasn’t truly who she said she was, but no one dared ask her, seeing as her past with the faceless men was not a secret. Arya gave her son to Aegon and walked slowly, yet fiercely to the center of the room where Jon was standing, and before he could utter a word she collapsed into his arms. 

“I missed you little sister,” he said into her hair.

And somehow, even with the threat of the dead, he felt as though everything would be alright in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> This may continue. Btw NOT a Jonsa fic.


End file.
